Rebirth
by brooke7827
Summary: The Old Kingdom is no more, and a time of darkness has descended over the Opal Realms. The throne has been overturned, and the heir is dead. The four realms are now ruled by the followers of a mysterious summoner, renowned for his use of daemons. There seems no hope to be found, but darkness cannot be perceived without light.
1. Retold

I stand on a hill - watching, waiting. A great army stands behind me, restless. Apart from the occasional whinny of a cavalry horse, it is eerily silent.

We feel them before they come into view: a great rumbling that shakes the ground, shakes our very souls. When they appear, the sight is enough to make any mortal cower. Ranks of undead creatures stretch across the horizon, and more appear with every passing moment. I stand tall with head held high, and reach across with a tattooed arm to remove my sword from its sheathe. The runes that cover the sword glow faintly in the pre-dawn light. We continue to watch, and wait. A man to my right commands the soldiers to ready themselves. Although we stand on higher ground, we are far outnumbered. The only hope we have is our Light.

The first line of creatures have begun their ascent. I say a quick prayer to Aurelune, the Goddess of Light, and then take a deep breath to brace myself. The call comes seconds later: "Charge!"

* * *

I awaken suddenly to loud knocking. I groan and roll over; it can't possibly be time to rise yet. Before I know it, Lady Hendrix all but bursts through the door to my chambers. "Cosima! Why are you still asleep? Again! Honestly, that girl couldn't follow an order if it slapped her in the face." She continues to rant as she marches across the room to throw open the shutters, forgetting all sense of formality. She's no doubt speaking of my handmaiden, Helena, whose duty it is to wake me in the mornings, among other things. Helena is a little different, having been raised in a convent and abused as a child. I have no problem with her, but very few share my sentiments.

"She probably just forgot," I mumble, squinting into the early morning sunlight.

"I don't know which is worse: her forgetting about her duties again, or her directly defying an order. Either way, pray tell me, what am I supposed to do with that girl?" Lady Hendrix is self-righteous, strict, and as pious as they come. Of course, she isn't really a Lady, she's my governess, but my parents insist on my use of the title out of respect.

"I'm sorry, my Lady. I thought you enjoyed starting your day in my delightful presence," I tease.

I watch in amusement as she barely contains the urge to roll her eyes. "While tending to you is never boring, your highness, you know full well that you should be up, dressed, and down in the dining hall by now." Whenever she puts emphasis on my title, which is most times she uses it, she does so to remind me of my place - like I could forget it. Lady Hendrix turns around to add, "And that attitude is only going to get you in trouble some day. You mark my words."

It's my turn to roll my eyes, although I wait until her back is turned. With that, I jump out of bed and start to dress myself, as I do most mornings. Having Helena as an inconsistent handmaiden as two definite positives: I usually get to sleep in, and I have to dress myself, which means I have a very good reason for not wearing a corset. No corset means no dress, and no dress makes me an infinitely happier person.

I glance in the mirror quickly before heading down to breakfast. I am quite small, even for a girl of 12; I see this as more of an advantage than a weakness. I have dark hazel eyes, and tanned olive skin from spending as much time outdoors as possible. I realise briefly that I've forgotten to brush my hair, but waive the thought. Lady Hendrix insists I would be incredibly pretty if only I took the time. 'Who would want to waste the time, though?' I always reply. I smile briefly at my reflection, clad in a loose-fitting shirt and laced pants, before rushing off downstairs.

I race along the corridors, heading past the kitchens on my way to the dining hall. Of course, there are alternate routes, but I love the challenge of dodging and weaving between the disgruntled servants in the crowded hallway. When I finally reach the cavernous room, I don't even bother trying to sneak in quietly. The heavy door makes this quite impossible.

"Cosima," my mother sighs exasperatedly, as I reach the head table. "Where have you been? You look a frightful mess." I turn to flash her my most charming grin, and she starts to laugh. "Well, all that matters is that you're here now." My mother, although Queen of the Opal Realms, has always been kind and gentle towards me. Sometimes I feel that I'm not the daughter she wanted me to be, but this doesn't seem to bother her all that much. At least she never says so. My father, as King, is required to be stricter on me, although he fails in this duty significantly. Never granted a son, I am as good an alternative as any, with my knack for avoiding dresses, and my tendency to climb trees and get involved in mock sword fights. Nevertheless, as much as I try to ignore it, I'm still being groomed to take the throne.

Once breakfast is over, I escape into the grounds. I head into the Kingswood, the protected forest full of game for the noblemen to hunt. Although most people avoid becoming close to me out of respect, or intimidation at my position, I have one friend behind the castle walls, the daughter of Adellyn, the baker. Just when I think I'll be exploring alone for the morning, I spot her sitting on the forest floor, leaning against an oak. She's reading a book I've loaned her, and she looks so peaceful that I don't want to disturb her. Almost.

"Delphine," I greet, alerting her to my presence. She looks up and smiles, eyes a light hazel in the sunlight filtering through the trees. At 14 years, she's already the prettiest girl in the castle, but perhaps I'm biased. With her long golden hair falling in ringlets down her back, she's wearing a plain dress, but no shoes.

"Forget your shoes again?" I tease. Delphine smiles and shakes her head, before rising to her feet. For possibly the millionth time, I wonder to myself why she puts up with my company, my teasing.

"You know I detest them. What purpose do they have?" she replies. Which is an excellent question, really. I pull off my shoes and toss them aside; the soles of my feet are thick from years of climbing. The feel of the grass is a welcome change. "Perhaps they exist for us to realise how enjoyable it is when we don't wear them," is my eventual response. She laughs softly.

"So, what do you want to do this morning?" I ask. "We could go and explore that cave again, or swim in the lake?"

"I thought, maybe, we could just stay here," she suggests. "If that's okay with you."

"Of course," I agree readily. Something about her demeanour strikes me as a little off, but I ignore it for now.

We spend the next hour or so in conversation about many different things. It's one of the things I like about spending time with Delphine; we can talk easily about anything for hours.

I ask her whether she likes the book I lent her. It's a book on the Kingswood, specifically its environment and ecology. Delphine's face lights up as she begins to speak about all the things she's learned. She has a natural affinity for people and animals, and all of nature really.

I catch myself before I slip completely under her spell, in time for her to drop her voice conspiratorially and ask, "Do you believe in nature spirits?"

"I don't know," I say. "What do you mean exactly?"

"Well," she starts, "the book isn't entirely rational. There's an entire chapter dedicated to nature spirits, like dryads, naiads, faeries, and such. It talks about communing with them using magick."

I pause to consider this information. "I think it's entirely possible they exist. I mean, the elves, dwarves, halflings and such, they're still rumoured to exist. If we're to believe the tales, they have existed for millennia. Is it really that much of a stretch to consider the possibility of other races existing? I mean, we know from the tales that if the elves truly did exist, they were in communion with the nature spirits."

"I never thought of it like that," Delphine ponders. "So, the tales are really true?"

"At the very least, there's as much chance they're true as they are false," I reply.

"This is why I love talking to you about these things. You always have an entirely and unexpectedly different perspective," Delphine comments.

"Thank you... I think," I reply.

She just smiles at me, then says, "Here, I'll show you." As she reaches across me to retrieve the book, she places her hand over mine. I'm unsure whether it's intentional or not, but the warmth spreading up my arm is undeniable. She sits back and opens the book, reading me extracts and showing me the illustrations within. I try my hardest to pay attention, but the fact that she hasn't removed her hand makes it difficult. Through the warm fog that seems to be clouding my mind, a question suddenly emerges: Is this what holding a friend's hand is supposed to feel like? Of course, I haven't held hands with many people, mostly my mother and Lady Hendrix, and they weren't friends. Still, this feeling seems different somehow. I'm wondering what all of this means, when the blast of a trumpet pierces the quiet morning air.

I'm snapped out of my reverie in time to see Delphine visibly jump. We aren't expecting visitors anytime soon, so who could it be? Regardless, Delphine is already standing up and dusting off her dress. The trumpet blast indicates to all of the servants that they are to return to the castle to prepare. I slowly rise, thinking it's probably time that I returned, too. We exchange farewells, and I watch as she starts to walk away. I'm missing her presence already, when suddenly she turns and rushes back to kiss me on both cheeks, precariously close to my lips. She laughs at the, undoubtedly ridiculous, expression on my face, before leaving me standing amongst the trees. I subconsciously touch a spot beside my lips as I watch her go.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, I'm running through the castle, already half an hour late for my lessons. They had completely slipped my mind, which happened more often than I cared to admit. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy my lessons, I just found it hard to stick to a schedule. As I burst through the door of the library annex, Maester Ethan looks up from the papers he has spread across his desk.

As I stand hunched over and wheezing, he mildly states, "Good of you to come." Every bit the absent-minded professor, it was often hard to decipher whether he was being serious, sarcastic, or somewhere in between. I remain silent as I sit down at my desk opposite his. He seems surprised by my lack of a witty retort, but makes no further comment. Instead, he says, "Today we'll be focusing on history."

Done with holding my tongue, I complain, "I already know enough of the history. You don't seriously expect me to sit here reciting dates and the names of people who are no longer relevant?"

The maester chuckles briefly before answering me. "Well, that renders my teaching method useless." This time I know he's joking.

"How do you propose teaching me then?" I ask with a smirk.

"I thought we could go over the legends," he says. "Although they're tainted by history and wildly exaggerated, each legend is based on its own truth, and has many things to teach us." Of course, I've already heard most of the legends, but Maester Ethan goes in to greater depth, and helps me identify the hidden truths in each. He tells me of the time of the first men, who destroyed their homeland with wars and famine. He tells me of the brave survivors who discovered the new lands, which they named the Opal Realms, for a rainbow had appeared in the sky when they landed on the shore. I learn why the realms were separated into four: Altuloc, the northern mountains of the dwarves; Vygdrassil, the western forests of the elves; Mondonum, the southern hills and valleys of the halflings; and Tyrandar, the barren eastern deserts that were the home of the orcs. None of these races looked with favour on the humans, and they were open with their dislike. Until the Time of Darkness, that is.

Maester Ethan is clearly enraptured by his own tale at this point. "Humans settled in the new land, and lived in peace for a time. However, peace is a futile objective when there are men who seek power over others. One man, in particular, became a very powerful sorcerer. In those days, you needed no training or instruction to become a wizard; anybody could claim the title. Zorander Tenebris was adept in many fields: enchanting, transmutation, alchemy, conjuring, summoning; all manner of magick. He was a great leader, and became Archmage to King Luxar, until he became lost in his quest for power and riches. Nobody can say how he discovered it, but he began to practice necromancy and the dark arts. The black magick tainted him, with each spell he worked and each creature he summoned, he became more corrupt.

"The King banished him from the realms, but unbeknownst to him, Tenebris simply hid in Tyrandar. He built a following among the orcs and, of course, those men who had followed him and his ways before the banishing found him. For several years it seemed that the peace would hold, but soon enough the rumours started to flow from the east. Tenebris had built a following, and they were preparing for war. The Archmage in that time, Gandor Diectus, helped the King make contact with the other races. Eventually treaties were drawn up and alliances formed, and all were bound together as one. The choice was made that they would stand together and wait for invasion.

"One month into the wait, something strange happened. Some say that it was the work of Diectus' magick, others say it was through his own studies, yet others say he was visited by Aurelune Herself. Many others believe it is pure myth. Regardless, it is said that King Luxar awoke one morning shining like the Sun. His visible light aura faded over the next few days, but his newfound power did not. They began calling him the Knight of the Light, Aurelune's Son. Over the final two months before the war began, Luxar began to study magick in earnest, and became a truly powerful warrior.

"When the armies finally met, they say the land trembled as if in cataclysm, and the Sun vanished from the sky. Tenebris had become a powerful necromancer, and more than half of his army consisted of vile undead and half-beasts, daemons of the darkness. The Army of the Light, though, they shone as bright as day. There were three battles, each more terrible than the last, and both armies suffered heavy casualties. The final battle ended when King Luxar faced Tenebris himself, and through great strength and willpower, overcame his darkness. As Tenebris fell, the Sun revealed itself once more, and the army was bathed in its light. To this day, Luxar is hailed as the greatest king of our time."

"You really love that story, don't you?" I joke, breaking the tension. "What exactly am I supposed to learn from that?"

"The greatest lesson of that story is that there must be balance. The light cannot be seen apart from the darkness, and the darkness cannot be perceived without light. Although one may try to conquer the other, they must learn to exist in harmony," Maester Ethan states.

"The light won, though. Metaphorically, the light killed the dark. How is that balance?" I ask.

Maester Ethan looks at me solemnly, and asks, "Do you really think the darkness was destroyed? Or was there too much darkness, and the light brought it back into balance?"

This is making my head spin, and I'm about to say so, when a page timidly knocks on the door of the annex. "Enter," the maester calls.

"Sorry to interrupt, but his majesty has need of you, sir," the page says.

"Very well," the maester replies. "You're in luck, your highness. Your lessons are over for the day."

I jump up, beaming. It's been a while since he's let me out early. He turns back to add, "I suppose you know of the Lodge of Necromancers. They practice the dark arts high up in the mountains of Altuloc. These days, though, the Mage Guild ensures they stay within certain guidelines. A balance of the dark and the light, but we will never know when another will hunger for more power." With this statement, he takes his leave, and I am more than happy to take mine.


	2. Refusal

I'm wandering the halls of the castle, unsure of what to do with myself, when I walk into earshot of clashing swords and men shouting. I head to the nearest window to peek at what's going on below. The training yard is filled with people: sparring, practising archery, throwing knives. If the soldiers are actually training, it can only mean one thing.

I race downstairs and out into the grounds, spotting her leaning on the balustrade of the raised platform that overlooks the yard.

"S! You're back!" I yell, barely containing my excitement. Lady Sadler is a captain in my parent's army, and is regularly away for months at a time while stationed around the Opal Realms.

"You look well, chicken," she greets, as I hurriedly climb the stairs to reach her. She holds me to her for a brief moment before asking, "Have you been practising?"

I shoot her the most indignant glare I can muster. "Of course," I state. Lady S smiles wryly, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Well, sometimes," I mutter sheepishly.

"Well then," she says, "I guess we'll just have to have a lesson now." With that, she grabs two wooden swords from the rack before tossing one in my direction. I snatch it out of the air, and practically jump off the platform in my eagerness to begin.

"Show me your stance," S calls from the platform. I watch as she issues instructions to her second-in-command, while I place my left foot back and turn my body to the side. "Remember to bend your knees, and loosen up. You don't want to be relaxed, but you do want to be flexible," she says, as she climbs down from the platform. "Sword arm up."

I follow her instructions. S positions herself in front of me, side-on and with sword raised. She takes a few practice swings, and I parry them with ease. Soon, we're sparring across the yard, and more than a few of the soldiers have stopped to watch. I almost manage to land a blow, but she's much too quick for me. Her agility is renowned, and while most of the soldiers wear armour, Lady Sadler is known for her lack of it. 'If you can't defend yourself with a sword, then you shouldn't be in a battle,' is a common adage of hers. I often wonder if she is forgetting that many lack the honour to face someone with a sword, much preferring to stab their enemies in the back.

Half an hour passes and my sword arm begins to tire. Seeing this, S says, "I think that's enough for today, chicken. You're getting much better."

"I still can't manage to land a blow, though," I reply moodily.

"That's why I tell you to practise. It will happen in time," she says, not unkindly. "How's your archery going?"

"Very well," I say with a smile. Although I may not be adept at hand-to-hand combat, my natural affinity for archery is almost unrivalled. My bow is one of my most treasured possessions. Rumoured to be Elven, my father passed it down to me when I was eight, claiming that it had been in my family for generations. Although I don't know whether to believe that elves even exist, it does appear to be in remarkable shape for a bow of its supposed age. "I can hit the bulls-eye nine times out of ten now," I state proudly.

"We might make a soldier out of you yet," S replies with a glint in her eye. As we're walking the edge of the training yard, S remarks, "I think you might have a friend, love."

* * *

I follow her line of sight and my eyes fall on Delphine, seemingly unsure of whether she wants to be noticed or not. "Oh," I say. "I'd better go check on her." I flash S a broad grin and thank her for the afternoon.

I lose sight of Delphine when she disappears back into the castle, but find her a few minutes later as I round a corner. She's leaning against the wall, head bowed, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the rough oak floor.

"Delphine?" I ask quietly, but she jumps anyway. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Is everything okay? You seem upset today."

She shrugs her shoulders, and manages to give me a weak smile. "It's nothing. I'm just not feeling well."

I take a few steps closer to ask, "Is there anything I can do?" She shakes her head, but she looks like she's holding back tears. I feel completely helpless and I have no idea what to say, so I wrap my arms around her instead. It's awkward - she's over a head taller than me - but she seems to relax a little just the same. I have no intention of letting go, when...

"Your Highness!" I jump backwards and spin around, coming face-to-face with Lady Hendrix. She looks the both of us up and down, but obviously decides not to comment as she continues, "I am here to escort you to your chambers and dress you for dinner. You must know that we have guests, and I have been instructed to make sure that you are on time. And dressed respectably," she adds haughtily.

Lady Hendrix marches back down the corridor, but I stay rooted to the spot. "Come!" she demands over her shoulder. I turn to Delphine, who gives an almost imperceptible nod, so I try to make my expression look as apologetic as possible, and then hurry off after Lady Hendrix.

* * *

By the time I enter the dining hall, I am miserable. Not only did I have to leave Delphine, I have been harassed by Lady Hendrix for the past hour and a half about everything from my manners and tone of voice to my posture. My appearance was also a favoured topic, and I have been forced into a corset dress. My hair is pulled back in a bun and I am covered in a ridiculous amount of jewellery, including a tiara. I don't even recognise myself.

I am announced, and then escorted to the head table. My mother looks delighted by my presence, and I can't help but feel a little better when targeted by the brilliance of her smile, which I return. My father, on the other hand, has an obvious crease between his brows. However, I'm not sure whether it is directed at me, or his present company.

I am introduced to the other people seated at the table; I already know the Archmage and his son, Felix, but the others are unfamiliar to me. Lady Rachel Duncan is a slight woman with sharply cut blonde hair that falls to her shoulders. "Pleasure, I'm sure," she says in a condescending voice that's almost a drawl. Paul Dierden is a well-built, intimidatingly muscular man seated between the two strange guests. He nods curtly in my direction, and it strikes me that he could be a bodyguard of sorts. My gaze is then directed to Lord Aldous Leekie, Head of the Lodge of Necromancers. Something about this man makes my skin crawl, and I suppress a shiver as I look into his gaunt face. "How do you do, Princess Cosima?" he asks, and although his voice is charming enough, it does nothing to help his demeanour. I simply nod my head politely in response.

Lord Leekie turns back to my parents, apparently continuing a discussion that I had interrupted. "You won't even consider relaxing the restrictions on necromancy? It has a much worse reputation than is necessary, and I assure you that we could make great leaps in the field."

My father is the first to respond. "What leaps could you possibly make in necromancy that would be of benefit to the realms?"

Leekie gives him a disarming smile, before replying, "There are innumerable benefits. To begin with, summoning and raising creatures allows them to impart hidden knowledge and prophecies to the summoner. It allows us to communicate with the dead. Once the creatures are summoned, of course, they are present until we banish them again. They can perform all kinds of menial duties that we wouldn't want to waste our time on. And consider this, having control over the strongest army, even beyond the known world. We would be feared and respected above all other kingdoms." The glint in his eye is especially repugnant, and I cannot believe my own eyes when I see my father seemingly pondering this possibility.

Thankfully, my mother steps in. "And how can we rely on the necromancers? You of all people should know what happens when the creature summoned is more powerful than the summoner. An embodied creature would kill the summoner, but a spirit or daemon... Well, they could easily possess the summoner. The consequences of an embodied daemon would be atrocious." I can tell from Leekie's expression that he is not happy with this observation, and that he is going to be hard-pressed trying to convince my mother.

"There is a possibility we may consider your proposal at a later date," my father says. "For now, however, I think we will leave the restrictions in place." Leekie is visibly outraged at being shut down, but keeps quiet.

I sit in silence while the others engage in polite conversation. I manage to catch Delphine's eye briefly while she serves ale at one of the lower tables, but she quickly looks down again. Eventually, the first course is served. I find oysters repulsive, so refuse to touch mine, and ask a server to bring me bread. The second course is soup, but when the bowl is placed in front of me, I realise it wasn't just the oysters that ruined my appetite. I tell myself that I'm being immature. I can't be upset over acting like a lady, a princess. I can't be upset over keeping up appearances. I most especially can't be upset over Delphine. Still, I only push the soup around the bowl with a spoon.

Suddenly, my mother shoves the spoon in my hand hard enough that some of the soup splashes over the side of the bowl. Thinking that she is silently scolding me for refusing to eat, I mutter a quiet apology, and start to bring a mouthful to my lips. Maester Ethan suddenly appears at my side and knocks the spoon clean out of my hand. I'm about to turn to him and ask what he could possibly be thinking, when there's a loud crash to my right. I whip my head around to see that my father has smashed one of his fists into the table, and his other hand is clutching his throat. Directly beside me, my mother has sunk backwards in her seat, her eyes wide and mouth foaming. The maester is now hauling me bodily out of my seat and pulling me away from the table. I look back to see Lady Sadler removing Felix from where he's clinging to his father's body, and then hoisting him over her shoulder.

Maester Ethan is pulling me down the dining hall as fast as his aged legs will carry him, when there's an even louder crash, and the huge wooden doors fly open. We both freeze as hundreds of men rush into the room. There are many peasants, but I recognise a few armed men from the training yard. The maester is now trying to lead me back up the hall, and we've nearly reached the door to the kitchens when our path is blocked by Paul. Surrounded by chaos, time seems to freeze as Paul takes a few leisurely steps forward, before swiping a dagger across the maester's neck. I scream, and Paul turns face me. He's leering, until a blade is struck deep into his right side. He staggers to his left, and Lady S steps around him to grab me. It's my turn to be lifted over her shoulder while she sprints through the kitchen, as though hoping that no one will notice who she's carrying.

We burst out the other side of the kitchen, and she puts me back down. Felix is standing in the hallway, sobbing and shaking. I can hear raised voices in the kitchen as Lady S grabs our hands and tells us to run. We're up several floors when we stop at a door. She kicks it open, all but shoves us into the room, and then slams the door behind us.

"Scott, I need you to hide this boy," Lady S says to a bewildered-looking man sitting at a desk. We appear to be in his chamber, which is dominated by books.

"Wh-what's going on?" he stutters.

"There's no time to explain; there's an assassin on the loose. This is the Archmage's son. You need to hide him until everything settles, and then take him to the Academy of Magick. The Mage Guild should take him from there," Lady S dictates.

"How am I supposed to hide him?" Scott asks, looking more bewildered by the second.

"I don't know!" she replies. "Put him under the bed, hide him in your trunk. I can't take them both with me!"

It's only at this moment that Scott seems to realise I'm also present. "Where are you taking her?"

"That is not something you need to know," she answers.

"O-okay," Scott says.

"Good," Lady S states. "We've got to go."

"Wait!" Scott yells desperately, but we're already out the door.


End file.
